Champion
by gthemiller
Summary: The story about the brutal path to glory for the son of a Chaos Daemon and a Chaos Cultist. Rated M for content.
1. The Witching Night

_For those of you who think this may be boring, it will not. It is a story about the subtle perversion of chaos, and the way that it cares not who it attracts, so long as it achieves its end._

**Champion**

**The Witching Night**

Adem Corrage sat quietly on a handmade, wooden chair at a bad-quality wooden table, slowly slurping stew.

He was twelve years old, and was typical for someone of his age in the Empire. He had dark, black hair, pale pimply skin, and piercing green eyes. He was neither tall nor short, being around five feet tall, although that was only in his boots. He wore a sack-cloth pair of trousers, a carefully woven hemp green shirt, and a pair of clunky leather boots. The dye for his shirt was very expensive, and had cost his mother a lot of money to make. Adem looked across at his mother, washing the family's dishes in a lead bucket. She worked hard, did his ma, but then it was hard living where they were.

Adem lived with his family in a small town about thirty miles away from the realm of Kislev. The town was called Bochheimenn, meaning 'Silly Town' in the old tongue.

Adem had three sisters and four brothers. His da had long since packed up and left home, looking for a woman who could satisfy his 'needs' better. Ma had to work very had to keep all the children in the house, but then, so did the children themselves. They all had jobs, some were apple pickers, some were pear growers, but the youngest was one and the oldest was sixteen. Ma took her hands out of the dirty washing bucket and sat down on another chair as it creaked in protest of her considerable weight. She picked up Thomas, the youngest, and bounced him on her knee.

Ma was a very pretty woman. She was thirty abouts, and looked as young as sixteen. She was constantly a source of attraction for the town. She had flowing, black hair, pale, flawless, white skin, and a fine body with good curves and full breasts.

The only child that didn't have to work was Thomas, but he still helped out in jobs around the house (in his own way, which usually involved hiding family objects). The house wasn't big, but it was not small, ma would say. It was... cosy. Yes. Cosy would be a good word for the house of three rooms, the kitchen, the hall, and the bedroom. Ma and Thomas slept in the bed, along with Jill, the second youngest daughter. She was only four, and had developed a horrible fear of the dark. The rest of the family slept on the floor under blankets in other rooms.

Adem stirred again his vegetable stew, picking out all the bits he didn't like, such as the carrots. He picked up his wooden spoon and put a carrot on the end of it. He careful angled the spoon, so that he would flick it like a catapult. He turned it to aim at Mary-Anne, the only member of the family that could read. Or was learning to anyway. Mary-Ann was the oldest child, and she was sixteen. Ma had picked her out a boy to marry, because they did desperately need the dowry. Adem was glad he was a boy, he did not want to have to marry someone he did not love.

Adem didn't really know what love was. Love was... a complicated concept, especially for one of his way of thinking. He was a very imaginative child, something that always got him into trouble with the adults of the village, especially Herr Ogdenhuhrer, who someone seemed to think it was his duty to stop Adem from playfighting.

Adem hated Herr Ogdenhuhrer. In fact, Adem didn't like most people in the village. He had no friends, and his brothers always teased him, even the ones that were younger. The only person Adem actually talked to was his little brother Thomas. Adem smiled as Thomas suddenly giggled and grapped with ma with his tiny hands.

Ma suddenly sat up straight, nearly knocking Thomas onto the floor. She looked at Adem with a sense of urgency in her eyes as Thomas pouted on her lap.

'You've got work today, you blaggard!'

Adem winced. His mother swore a lot. He did not particularly like it, but she did. And she was also right. He did have to work today. Adem had a job on a wheat farm, and his job was to harvest the wheat with a scythe. Before his mother could scold him more, he ran to the makeshift door that hung oddly off its hinges and ran outside to the wheat farm.

**Meanwhile...**

Armand Witchkiller leaned forward carefully in his seat, intimidating the barman who stood behind the counter, nervously fidgeting his hands on his dirtied and stained apron.

'What did you just say?'

'Err... Err... I just... I don't want anyone causin' trouble... Beggin yer pardon sir... of course, if you don't want to leave, that'd be fine as well... but you're intimidating me customers... and well...'

Armand interrupted the idiotic barman, leaning further forward, the golden effigy of Sigmar's hammer dangling from his neck.

'You asked me to leave, didn't you?'

The barman looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

'It's just that you're scarin' me customers... and... you know what, forget it. A drink for you on the house, Mr...?'

Armand continued, standing up now. The entire bar was staring at him with fear-lidded eyes.'

'Do you know who I am?'

The bar had gone deathly silent. Armand pulled his jacket back slightly next to his hip, so that all the bar could see his blessed pistol holstered there.

The innkeeper tried to continue.

'Well, no sir, that's why I was askin, I mean, beggin yer pardon sir, I'm sorry, I apologise...'

Armand drew his pistol, quick as a flash, and fired it directly above the innkeeper's head. The innkeeper ducked, his wife screamed, the tavern jumped.

The innkeeper stood up, the expression of horror on his face clear to see. The bottle that Armand had just shot fell onto the floor, smashing the glass and sending tiny bits of it everywhere.

'In here.' Armand continued, raising his voice. 'I am god. I have been sent to this village by the holy church of Sigmar in Altdorf to cleanse the taint of the ruinous powers from this place!'

Collective gasps arose from the audience, and many people moaned in horror. An elderly woman, who looked to be about sixty, groaned, and collapsed. Armand continued.

'Why do you want me to leave, innkeeper? Is there a secret in here you want to keep, hmm? Something best left undiscovered? Some hidden taint that you didn't want me to see? Well?'

The innkeeper tried to shake his head, but he was trembling so badly already it wasn't noticeable.

Armand put his pistol in its holster, and leisurely walked towards the door.

'Oh, and barman?' He called, not turning around. 'Fix that glass up, will you? Somebody could step on that and get hurt.'

Armand smiled and walked out of the inn in a swagger, knowing full well that he had done Sigmar's work.

**-**

'No, no, NO!'

Herr Schronberg pushed Adem out of the way roughly, trampling some of his own wheat in the process.

'_This_ is how it's done!'

Schronberg pulled Adem's scythe out of his unresisting hands, and held it properly.

'See, you hold it like this...'

Schronberg gently swung it back and forth over the wheat, cutting it down.

'This is how you reap the wheat! See! Try it.'

Adem nervously picked up the sharp scythe. Last summer, he had hurt himself with a scythe whilst trying to cut wheat. He had a scar to show for it on his right arm. Adem swung the scythe slowly and cautiously from side to side, trying not to go further out than he had to.

'That's it. Go easy boy.' Schronberg remarked, smiling, as Adem reaped the wheat.

Adem built up courage, and did it faster now, side, to side, to side, to side. Cut, cut, cut. He must have been getting a bit overconfident, because he accidentally got caught in the momentum of the swung and fell over, crushing a bunch of wheat in the process.

'Argh!' Schronberg cried as the broken wheat stalks fell, potentially useless now. No good trader would buy crushed wheat.

Adem hastily stepped to his feet and looked at the ground, his face blushing furiously.

'Sorry.' He muttered.

'Say it like you mean it boy, you just cost me money!' Schronberg cried.

Adem looked up a bit and said, in a low voice again. 'Sorry.'

Schronberg gently lifted Adem's head with a finger.

'Don't worry about it boy. We can always grow more wheat, can't we?' Schronberg grinned, and the grin passed to Adem, who could not resist Schronberg's charm.

'Now, let's try again.' Schronberg instructed. 'Gently swing it from side to side, like I told you. But this time, don't try and do it faster, or better. You have to keep consistent. You are the master of the wheat. Keep it in check. That's right. Gently, but apply power on the swing. That's right. Perfect!'

Schronberg beamed as Adem worked his way through a column of wheat, slowly but consistently.

Adem grinned at getting praise from Schronberg. Schronberg was as close to a father as Adem had ever had, his real father having left him before he was born. The other children of the family were fathered by various men who had paid ma off to satisfy their own... needs. Adem positively adored Schronberg, and although he loved him like a father, he never told him so, for Adem wisely thought the feeling might not be mutual.

So Adem kept reaping the wheat, and cutting it. Schronberg went inside, but watched from the windows, because he was still worried Adem might hurt himself or the wheat again. Adem grinned. It was a good day.

**-**

Adem's mother sat down on the bed, exhilarated. Tonight was one of the few nights she could call Him.

Tonight was Geheimishnacht.

She quickly sat up, and looked outside her window. She thought she could already see the dark sky warping. She almost shrieked in laughter when she saw Morrslieb, the chaos moon. It's dark greeny surface signaling to her chaos in its pure essence.

Her children were in bed. They were asleep. Most children were asleep on the witching night, and many people barricaded their houses. This was the one night ever year when Morrslieb was most visible.

She pulled out from under her bed a slab of rock, upon which there was a symbol that would chill most people to the bone if they saw it.

It was the symbol of Slaanesh.

She continued to put the slab in a certain place in the room, and then stopped. She sat cross legged before the slab of rock, and closed her eyes, while rocking herself back and forth and chanting.

'Prince of Darkness hear my plea, send that which is most valued to me!'

The symbol on the rock started changing colours rapidly. Adem's mother did not stop. She chanted a myriad of words while rocking wildly back and forth, the noise not leaving the room through some method of enchantment. The stone wildly reacted suddenly, and a mist sprayed out from the middle of the symbol suddenly. The mist circled around the room, and Adem's mother breathed it in deeply, taking exultation in the dark feeling it gave her.

A dark, dark shape materialised behind her, something that looked too evil to be human, and too beautiful to be a daemon. Some sick abomination that would be willing to cater for desires of any sexes.

A Daemon.

Jagghadun tapped her on the shoulder, ever so gently, and she stood and turned to face him.

'It has been a time, my eternal love. Come to my arms, Shiva Corrage.'

Shiva dropped her dress from her body, beneath which she wore nothing. She fell into the naked daemon's arms, and they both fell upon the bed, lost in mad ecstasy, pleasure, and pain. Shiva screamed, hard, part in pain, and part in lust, two mixes that combined to make the essence of the Prince of Pleasures.

Their bodies moved with vibrancy, entwined as they were. They thrusted and bulged, and licked, and sucked, and twisted, and bent over each other in a horrible imitation of a lover's embrace.

Suddenly, Shiva's door opened. Before either Jagghadun or Shiva could do anything, a small boy walked in.

It was Thomas.

He had his blanket in his hand, and, gently rubbing his eyes, walked to the foot of the bed. Jagghadun and Shiva did not stop, still callously thrusting. Suddenly Jagghadun pulled back, and grabbed Thomas, covering his mouth with sick, twisted claws. Jagghadun put Thomas on the stone slab, and Shiva leapt up off of the bed with delight and sat next to him. Jagghadun extended one of his claws to a monstrous length...

And slit baby Thomas open.

Thomas screamed, but no noise left the room, as the horrible enchantments and wards left by the chaos cultist Adem's mother did their work. Nobody slept soundly that night...

Least of all baby Thomas, who never slept again.


	2. Whispers in the Dark

**Champion**

**Whispers in the Dark**

When Adem awoke the next day, after the hateful night of witches, he awoke not to the sound of farm bustle, but to screams and horror.

Thomas was missing.

His own beloved brother, Thomas...

Was missing.

On the night of _witches._

He got out of his bedsack and quickly slung a shirt on, to see one of his sisters, Mary-Ann, sobbing uncontrollably with her back to a wall. Adem walked over to try and comfort her, but she swatted him away like a fly. Although Adem didn't show it, he was hurt.

He didn't just want to comfort her. He wanted to comfort and to be comforted. Now he was alone as well.

Adem decided what would be best for his dead heart would be to go to work. Yes. That was it. Go to work.

He felt dead inside.

-

Armand Witchkiller carefully interviewed the eighth person to be talked to today.

'So how did you know the Corrage family? What connections have you got?'

The old housewife in front of him shifted nervously on her chair, and patted at the apron on her lap.

'I didn't know 'em... as such... but Herr Armand, I did know that boy to have wandered off a lot, and well..'

Armand interrupted suddenly. He was sick and tired of these stupid peasants. They thought it had nothing to do with the ruinous powers.

It _always_ had something to do with the ruinous powers.

'Get this stupid woman out of here.' He snapped, talking to a militia-man behind the housewife. He heaved her up off of her chair, none too gently, and dragged her out of the room despite her protests.

'No more visitors for today Herr...?'

'Drudgscheim, sir. Herr Drudgscheim.'

'Right then.' Armand replied. The militia-man walked out of the inn cellar, leaving Armand to think. A boy gone missing on the witching night? How could that be a coincidence. Maybe he was a worshiper of chaos... Maybe he was possessed... Maybe his family were cultists... Maybe the entire village was dedicated to chaos!

Armand stood up, and just as he did, he felt a little tingle brush through his beard. There was no-one else in the cellar. There was no wind in the cellar. Armand was something that not many other witchhunters were.

He was a wizard.

The winds of magic were flowing strong, and he had to find out where, before someone else got hurt. And even if he had to hurt a few people to stop someone getting hurt, well then... It was worth the means.

-

Adem scythed the wheat, his face stinging from salty tears burning into his skin. He kept swinging the scythe, back and forth, back and forth.

Why did Thomas go missing? Why!

Adem kept cutting the wheat, not losing rhythm.

His mother must be beside herself with grief. She did love Thomas so.

Just the thought of the state the family was getting himself into made Adem's already stinging eyes drip forth more tears. Adem stopped, and dropped the scythe. He fell to his knees and sobbed, uncontrollably. He held his head in his hands, and cried, and cried, until he could not cry any more.

He cried for the memory of what once was, he cried because his brother had gone missing, he cried because his brother was probably dead.

Everything dies.

Adem was so depressed and afraid. He was afraid of death, now more than ever, and afraid of decay, and what would happen to his body when he died. He did not want to live in an uncertain afterlife. He wanted to live forever. He did not even care if he decayed, or if the rest of his body died.

So long as he _existed_.

In another place far, far away, a place that should not exist except in fanciful nightmares and imaginations, something... _stirred._

It was moved by emotion.

It knew that something was happening somewhere, a transformation that would turn someone into something utterly different.

He was Arrogg of plagues.

He was a Great Unclean One.

Suddenly, a presence appeared in Adem's mind that had not been there before. Adem jumped at this, and tried to run away, for he knew something was wrong with this presence. It was dark, and evil, and shrouded his mind with doubt. It hid its true form to Adem, revealing nothing. Adem stopped running around the wheat fields, because he could not flee from this presence, whatever dark demon it was.

But then...

It _spoke._

Its voice was like a great wheel groaning and a thousand voices screaming, it was alike to death and disease in all its workings.

And it said hello.

_'Greetings, Adem.'_

Adem whimpered on the ground; he was afraid. He knew not what this thing was, only that it was wrong, and evil.

He knew what he would do. He would run to the witchhunter his mother said was in town; surely he would be able to exorcise him?

_'I would not do that if I was in your position.'_

Suddenly Adem's legs could not move; he was frozen solid and still. He collapsed onto the soft, bed of wheat again.

_'It is only in your best interests that you stay away from that man. He is a wizard, and can sense me. He will sense that I am occupying you, and kill you.'_

Adem groaned, and despaired, and was filled with a terrible fear. He clapped his hands to his ears, in an effort to try and stifle the voice.

_'Am I hurting you?' _The voice came again, much more peaceful and quiet than the last time. _'I will be more quiet. I am sorry. It is difficult to control myself.'_

Adem took his hands away from his ears. This being, this interdimensional, cosmic being, was _sorry?_ Unthinkable! He was probably going insane over the loss of his brother.

_'You are not losing your sanity at any rate boy, rather the opposite. You are becoming aware.'_

Adem said out loud the following words, hoping the creature would hear them.

'Who are you?'

_'I am your father, and I am here to take care of you.'_

Adem suddenly became filled with such a sense of peace and happiness, of safety, and homeliness, that he stopped resisting, stopped trying to push this being out. He stood, probing this creature in his mind.

Suddenly, something came out of his mind that he was totally unprepared for.

_'I love you Adem. You are perfect, and you will be my son.'_

Adem was so overcome with emotion that more tears ran down his face, but tears of happiness, and love, and hope.

Suddenly, the thing pushed those emotions away.

_'Please do not think those thoughts. They hurt me.'_

'What, hope?' Adem said, apologetically.

_'Yes. The thought that you call hope. It is anathema to us. It burns us.'_

Adem did not know what anathema was, only that it did not sound nice. He apologised again, and then sat down. He did then a most unthinkable thing.

He had a conversation with the presence.

They had a long talk, just sitting there in the wheat field, about lots of things, about family, and home, and the village and everything.

Suddenly, the presence said something else.

_'You must kill your mother.'_

'What?' Adem gasped. 'Why would I do that?'

_'She killed your brother, Thomas. She is the servant of a dark power known only in whispered halls as the Prince of Pleasures. The Prince is twisted and dark and exists only to seek out perversion and germinate it.'_

Adem was suddenly feeling very, very vulnerable. To know that his mother served such an abomination all these years was simply horrifying. Strangely, he found himself trusting this presence, and hating his mother, all too quickly. He did not understand it. Adem just felt safe in its presence.

Reading his thoughts, the presence replied.

_'But of course you feel safe. You are in grandfqther's care now.'_

'Grandfather who?' Adem asked.

_'Grandfather Nurgle, my dear child.'_

Adem was comforted in the knowledge that he had a grandfather, and with that knowledge, he steeled himself for what he was about to do.

'I will kill my mother, father. I will spill her blood and rend her insides.' Adem found himself saying, softly.

_'I know you will, child. I know you will.'_


	3. Betrayal and Death

**Champion**

**Betrayal and Death**

Adem crept quietly into his house.

_It was midnight._

He shut the door quietly behind him, and sneaked over to the table to get an apple. Just before he could lay his hands on it, a voice sounded in his head.

_'There will be time for bloating your belly later. For now, the wench must die!'_

Adem steeled himself. He carefully sneaked past two of his sisters, who slept in the same sack. His brothers slept in individual potato sacks, and were usually awake at this hour. Adem went into his mother's bedroom. Suddenly, a voice from behind took him by surprise.

'And just what the_ fuck_ do you think you're doing coming home this late?'

Adem wheeled sharply to see one of his brothers, Felix, staring him straight in the face. Felix was fourteen, and had bullied Adem most of his life. He had a sharp, crooked nose, and fair brown hair that was cut short. He had a pimpled face and was taller than Adem, though not by much. Felix's fourteenth birthday was coming in two weeks, and ma had planned a special surprise for him.

Those plans looked to be about to be cut short.

'Nothing, just come home after a late night.' Adem said, innocently.

'And I suppose you were out with your lady friend, were you?' Felix sneered sarcastically. 'You are such a lowlife Adem. You always have been, and you always will be. Me and Ted were watching you reap wheat the other year and you cut yourself with a scythe, all across your arm. How do you even achieve something so stupid?' Felix laughed then. 'Go to bed, Adem, and I won't have to punish you.'

Adem turned and stared, hard, at Felix. Neither of them wavered. 'Right.' Felix said suddenly. 'Get to bed, Adem, _NOW!_'

Adem did not move. Felix sneered at Adem, and then turned to walk away. Suddenly, without warning, he swung around and punched Adem, hard, in the nose. Adem cried out in shock, but not loudly enough to wake everyone else.

'That'll teach you to mess around with me.' Felix said menacingly. '_I'm _going to bed now. I recommend you do the same.'

Adem stifled the flow of blood coming from his nose, until he realized something strange. The presence inside his head was...

Laughing.

_'Your brother would make a good recruit for Grandfather!' _The presence said, chuckling. _'So willing to cause death and destruction... Giving in to his own decay.' _Adem suddenly felt strangely jealous. Knowing that his 'Father' had feelings for his brother upset him much. He was suddenly filled with resentment. _'Good.'_ Said the voice without warning. _'You are filled with the desire to kill, to avenge, destroy, wreak havoc, kill, destroy, spread plagues, disease, pestilence, murder evil, wrath, DESTRUCTION!'_

Adem reeled from the psychic assault going on inside his head.

_'Kill the bitch. She must die.'_

Adem walked towards his mother's bed. As he stared at her face, tossing and turning under her bedsheets, he saw her naked, in bed. Her perfect skin, with no pockmarks or moles or blisters seemed to irritate the voice.

_'She tries to escape decay. Look at her, decadent wench. She does not accept death. Death is the way all things are. She must be forced to accept it... by her own son.' _Some of the blood from Adem's nose dripped onto his mother's bedsheets, and the presence seemed to find this amusing. Looking at her face, Adem found himself unwilling to slay her. She was his mother. She had raised him.

_'She KILLED YOUR BROTHER! Kill her! She disrupts natural order!'_

Adem did not know exactly how he was going to kill her. He picked up a spare pillow his mother had tossed on the floor. As he was holding it, he saw strange green lights flowing through his veins towards the pillow. He dropped it instinctively. _'Pick it up, child.' _The presence said, kindly. Adem picked the pillow up and observed as clouds of flies emerged from his fingertips and swarmed around the pillow. Bugs settled in it. They laid feces and eggs in it. It was disgusting, and yet...

Adem was filled with a curious revulsion, and being of an inquisitive nature, he could not put it down. He moved the pillow over to his mother, and laid it over her face. Instantly, her eyes snapped open.

She jumped up, quicker than lightning, and knocked her bedsheets and Adem's fly-pillow aside.

She was naked.

She hissed, and Adem noticed that her tongue was forked, and her eyeteeth were razor sharp.

She was beautiful.

_'We meet again, Shiva.'_ Said the presence, but somehow, Adem wasn't the only one who could hear it. 'Arrog.' His mother said, accusingly, and then started circling him. Adem simply stood still as the presence in his mind used him to speak to his mother. _'The Prince of Pleasures has given you many gifts. Some of them, you mortals might call... beautiful?'_ His mother laughed, and, faster than the eye could see, jumped forward and made twin cuts on Adem's chest. Adem cried out in pain; the cuts were light, and non-lethal, but they stung. He looked forward at his mother, and saw that she had sharp claws on the ends of her fingers.

She was a chaos cultist.

'You are evil mother!' Adem accused, staring her in the face as they circled. 'The creature in my head will help me destroy you! You think yourself immortal, but the Dark One will not save you!' Adem's mother simply said, while not letting her guard down. 'We meet again, Arrogg.'

_'And what a meet it is!'_ Came the voice, booming out of Adem's mouth. _'This would never have happened if you did not sacrifice that boy.' _Suddenly, a mask of complete pleasure and satisfaction crossed his mother's face. 'Maybe so. But it did feel exquisite. Can you feel it, Arrogg? The pleasure? His pain? But I can always make more children. And he is not the son of Jagghadun anyway.'

Suddenly, for a moment, pure loathing crossed through Adem's mind. It was not his own. _'Ah yes, your daemonic consort. You are nothing more than a whore.'_ To this his mother seemed to grin, before flexing her strange claws. 'Maybe so.' She purred. 'But at least it feels good.'

Adem hated his mother now. She had sacrificed his brother to some evil, dark cult. She was a consort to daemons. She was a whore. She had attacked him.

And now she was going to die.

Suddenly, his mother backed up towards the fly-pillow. She stepped on it, and instantly creatures swarmed up her naked legs and bit her in a thousand places, swarming between her legs. They were all over her in an instant. They bit her in so many places. They were biting her, and she gasped in pleasure at the pain she was feeling.

But then she stopped.

They were biting strategically, to deaden her nerves. When they eventually flew off and out of the window, after about thirty seconds of attack, Adem's mother simply stood there, quivering. She collapsed onto the floor and moaned.

'I feel nothing! I can feel no pleasure, and no pain!'

Adem slowly edged towards his mother, curiously enticed by this display of pestilence as the flies had attacked his mother.

His flies.

_'I will leave this boy, woman.' _The presence that was Arrogg gloated. _'But before I do, I will train him to be a mighty warrior, and he will be a death to his foes. He will reap now not wheat, to give money to you, his whore mother, but he will reap lives with a scythe that I shall craft for him. I shall clad him in the mightiest chaos armor. I will make him into a warrior for Nurglitch, most powerful of the chaos gods.'_

His mother stared up then, and stared at Adem's face intently. 'I was going to bring you into the cult eventually. I wanted you to join me. By my side. I wanted you to love me, and make love to me.'

Adem simply stared, lost for words. Then, he found some.

'Die, sick bitch.'

In an instant daemonic flies and plagues materialized in his right fist and he swung it towards her face, hard. It struck her square in the temple, and all of the bugs and plagues and creatures transferred themselves to his mother. They swarmed all over her, but she did not feel them, because her nerves were dead. She simply sobbed as they ate her alive.

In seconds, it was over.

Adem stared at his dead mother with a grin on his face. _'Now.' _Said Arrogg. _'Let's take care of your pesky siblings.'_ Adem smiled then, and walked out into the main room. He dealt each and every one of his siblings horrible death. The first to die was Felix.

Felix had screamed as Adem pushed his hand down his throat, letting all the pestilences and diseases flow into his body. They all shared the same fate, except one.

The second youngest child, Jill, had ran towards Adem as he had advanced with grim determination. She had hugged him.

Despite Arrog's screaming protests, Adem walked Jill to the local inn, the Duck and Goose. He dropped her off at the door, then walked away.

She would probably live her life as a prostitute, haunted forever by what had happened to her family.

Adem had been about to go, when suddenly...

_BANG!_

A shot had been fired behind him, and only coincidence had allowed the bullet to miss. Jill ran inside the Tavern, frightened by loud noises. Adem wheeled round, menace clear on his face. Although he was only twelve, Arrogg had clearly altered his body – Adem looked about twenty. Adem turned to see the Witchhunter, Herr Armand staring him in the face with a smoking pistol in his hand. The pistol would clearly take too long to reload, as Armand holstered it and advanced with a cruel scimitar in his hand. Behind Adem, the inn's windows were hastily closed by frightened patrons, and he could hear a commotion inside. Without warning, Armand leapt at Adem, screaming a prayer to Sigmar. Adem knew he could not defend himself against this.

He ran.

Adem fled north, the witchhunter behind him. More shots were fired, but they all missed. Adem successfully ran north, as far as he could, until he could run no more. He hid in a copse of trees and Armand walked straight past him.

This was his life now.

On the run.

_'Only for a while._' Said Arrogg. _'Soon they will run, as you carve a swathe through their ranks. You will be immortal, and invincible, as Nurgh-leth is master of life and death. Congratulations boy. You are now a Champion of Chaos.'_


End file.
